Auburn Burn
by slightlysickpsycho
Summary: Ignores Snape's death. Harry loves Ginny, but Ginny isn't sure how she feels about him. When Snape catches her out of bed one night, smut ensues. Contains light bondage dominant Snape .
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. Also, Snape didn't die.

Ginny Weasley stormed through the icy halls, stomping across patches of tranquil moonlight, the pale, almost ghostlike glow pooling around the freckles punctuating her porcelain skin. There had been a time when she hated those freckles. Now it seemed like such a silly thing to worry about; lately she could barely stand to look in the mirror because all she saw there was the weight she bore.

_Be careful what you wish for. _

No one could have warned her. Even now they'd call her crazy for wanting something else.

Other witches tried to steal him from her. There was a time when it had made her angry, but now she was too tired to care. The boy who saved her life had become the man who saved the world, and he loved Ginny and no one else.

Her mother was already planning the wedding. No one had bothered to ask her if she felt unsure, if this was truly what she wanted. Everyone had assumed. After all of the pain she had seen him suffer, it felt wrong to want to push away when he clung to her.

Bursting through the door of the Astronomy tower, Ginny gasped in the night air so hungrily one might have thought she couldn't breathe in the castle. As her heartbeat slowed and her breathing grew normal once more, she sank down and lit a cigarette, settling in to wait for sunrise.

These sparse lone moments were the only solace she had in a chaotic life, and having one taken from her caused her chest to ache as though it had been torn open as she heard the clear, quiet voice.

"How very ladylike." the sarcasm and distaste she heard in his voice brought something inside her into a much clearer focus. She was sick of everyone being so fucking nice. Instead of trying to hide it or offering some flimsy excuse, Ginny raised one eyebrow, leaned forward, and blew a series of smoke rings in her Professor's direction.

He stepped toward her, leaning in close enough for her to smell the firewhiskey on his breath.

"My. Office. Now." With an apathetic shrug she stood to follow him, taking a long drag from her cigarette before a subtle flick of his wand banished it. His shoulders swayed slightly as he walked beside her, one hand wrapped roughly around her wrist. "And what would your darling fiancé think of his sweet little princess sneaking out to fill her lungs with poison when she should be all snug in her bed?" Beady black eyes stole a sideways glance at her grimace.

"Don't tell Harry." She wasn't begging. Her voice didn't sound desperate, just tired. Snape was intrigued by her apathy. She had returned to Hogwarts after the final battle feminine and refined, a perfect social butterfly. He imagined that she was expected to contort herself until she took the shape of something appropriate for the savior of her world.

No one remembered those who fought beside him, everything they had endured to help him succeed. Ginny shuddered to think of all the times her professor had been tortured, the way he must have felt living a double life, knowing he could be caught at any moment, and the consequences he risked were far beyond the simple pain of death.

Perhaps it was the firewhiskey, perhaps it was just the thrill of seeing the cynicism burning in the honey brown eyes that had shone with innocence and trust mere months before , but Severus couldn't stop himself from uttering the words that came next.

"Miss Weasley, you are aware that use of tobacco is prohibited at Hogwarts, yet you appear to have made a habit of blatantly disregarding the rules. There will be consequences for your actions. I haven't fully decided what to do with you, but I can assure you, you will be punished _most severely._" A chill shot down her spine at the way his deep, rich voice caressed the last two words, melting in her stomach like dark chocolate.

"What kind of… of punishment?" Her throat felt dry as she spoke.

He stopped abruptly, jabbing at the wall absentmindedly with his wand. A heavy door appeared, creaking as it swung open to reveal the sparsely decorated office. He gestured toward an overstuffed maroon chair that sat facing his extraordinarily large dark cherry wood desk.

"Sit, Ginny." he said in an uncharacteristic chivalrous voice that burned with anticipation. She sat quickly, resting her hands on her knees and staring up at him curiously. Now he could understand the appeal Harry had seen in the young redhead. Constellations of amber freckles sprawled over skin that looked like porcelain in the velvety dancing firelight. As she bit her lip anxiously, he watched the sharp looking little teeth sink into the puffy pink pincushion. Her inviting lower lip reminded him of the other parts of her waiting to be kissed. She was by no means voluptuous, but the slender curve of her spine drove him mad, the way she sat, gleaming with defiance, silenced the last cries of the voice of reason.

"I suppose," he said slowly, as though contemplating something that had never occurred to him before, "that if we resolve the matter of your discipline tonight, this whole little incident can remain our little secret."

Ginny wasn't sure why, but her stomach filled with butterflies and her face grew so warm she wondered if it hadn't perhaps turned fuchsia.

"If you would prefer, we can handle this in the morning."

"No!" she hadn't meant for her response to be so forceful, but a part of her was screaming that she had to stay, even though she had no idea what the night might bring. "I mean," she continued carefully, "I'd prefer to handle the situation tonight. What did you have in mind, professor?"

He sat down behind his desk, pinching the bridge of his nose in an effort to force his mind to work properly. When that failed, he reached behind him to produce a bottle of firewhiskey and a large tumbler. As he started to pour, Ginny spoke.

"Aren't you going to offer me some?"

Dark eyes glinting with mischief, he passed her the bottle. "I doubt very much that you will find this to your liking." His smirk faded as she took a deep swig, suppressing the shudder that it evoked and staring into his eyes in silent challenge. He emptied the tumbler so quickly Ginny's composure faltered for an instant and she looked genuinely impressed. _What a strange little girl,_ he thought to himself, though a small voice reminded him that she wasn't a child anymore by any stretch of the imagination. He cringed the thought away, wondering desperately what kind of trouble he was getting himself into.

Ginny pressed the bottle to her lips, forcing herself to swallow an amount comparable to what she had just seen her professor accomplish. She sat rigidly in her chair, eyes pinched shut, waiting for the burning rush to subside, determined to maintain her composure.

"You look like McGonagall." he muttered, teasing. At first she didn't smile, but two dimples etched themselves into her pink-tinged cheeks. He watched with genuine enjoyment as she dissolved into a fit of giggles, wondering again what he had started.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot of this story.

Though this was not her first experience with alcohol, Ginny knew her tolerance wasn't as high as she would like to pretend. She looked up from where she had slumped forward onto his desk, lower half still haphazardly supported by the soft chair. His eyes were intense as he took her in, burning with a darkness she longed to taste. She could see the faded scars scattered over his skin and the fine lines in his face. She shifted awkwardly in her seat when she realized how much being this close to a man who radiated so much raw power thrilled and aroused her.

"So," she asked conversationally, "are you gonna punish me or not?" His eyes darkened terrifyingly, making the pit of her stomach drop.

"I am still deciding what to do with you." he finished his drink, eyes never leaving her. She lifted the bottle to her lips again. She had always preferred sweeter drinks in the past, but she was beginning to like the bitterness clinging to her tongue far better. He snatched the bottle from her hands.

"I did not think you would drink that. It was foolish of me to offer, but I expected better from you, Miss Weasley." Instead of putting the firewhiskey away, he drank from it himself. "May I offer you some pumpkin juice?"

She rose to her feet, stumbling slightly. "It's bloody hot in here! And no, Snape, I don't want pumpkin juice."

"Professor Snape." The two words were spat in a dangerous tone.

"Huh?"

He stood, placing his palms flat on the table and leaning toward her. "I am your teacher, and you will address me with respect."

"Sure, Professor." He opened his mouth to respond to her sarcasm, but closed it again as she started struggling with her robe. Once she had managed to flail through the twisting fabric, she stood before him in purple cotton pajama pants and a black camisole that clung to her slender form provocatively. The corner of her mouth tugged up in a wicked smirk as she bent over the desk, stretching to grab the bottle that sat in the shadow of Snape's billowing robes. Normally he would have snatched the firewhiskey away long before her fingers wrapped around it, but the alcohol had dulled his senses. Instead, he found himself stealing a glance down her low-cut shirt to where two intoxicating orbs pressed together in the orange glow of a dying fire.

She took a step back as she stood, catching his eyes as they moved back up to her face. He tried so hard to cling to dignity.

"Miss Weasley," he said, "You most certainly have had enough! I will not tolerate this kind of behavior. Give back the bottle." he held out his hand. She grinned at him.

"Guess you'll just have to punish me extra." she pressed the bottle's mouth to her lips and threw her head back, drinking as much as she could before he stumbled onto the desk and snatched it from her hands. Now it was his turn to smile. His eyes flickered over her body before he quietly uttered his carefully chosen words.

"Miss Weasley, I very much doubt you could endure the kind of punishment I'd rather give you."

He felt instant regret when she looked uneasy, but the expression was chased away by a look of strong determination. "You'd be amazed by what I can endure."

"What have you endured?" She seemed so vulnerable, doing everything she could to make him think she was strong. He wished he could protect her from himself. He tried to gain control of the situation, to change the direction in which things were heading. He would force himself to be the friend she needed, and never allow anything more.

She rolled her eyes. "Have you seen my life lately?"

"What's so terrible about your life?"

"I'm seventeen years old and engaged. You know that. _Everyone _knows that. And they're so happy for me."

"Don't you love him?"

"I thought I did when I was younger." a hand clapped to her mouth as she slowly became aware of the honesty of her answer.

"How do you feel now?"

"Drunk." she forced out a hollow giggle, desperate to avoid his real question.

"Harry, Ginny. Focus. Are you happy with Harry?"

Her stomach sank and she couldn't stop the sadness from showing on her face. "How could I be happier with anyone else?"

"Do you love him?"

"I would give anything to."

"You deserve better than that."

"No one would ever forgive me."

"Can you forgive yourself for what you're doing now?"

Ginny just sighed, slumping back in her seat. "You know, you make lovely conversation. Remind me to invite you next time I'm throwing a party." He just looked at her until she spoke again. "Have you decided on a punishment yet? I'd like to get going."

Was that a flicker of panic in his eyes as she started to stand? The intoxicating beverage burned through Ginny's veins, and she felt alive. Her sadistic side awakened to her current position. He couldn't let her out to roam the halls, drunk on Firewhiskey he had given to her with very little resistance. He would want to keep her where she was until he got her to drink a sobering draught or enough time had passed for her to come back to her full senses naturally. Inebriated or not, Ginny Weasley, who shuddered to think that she would soon be Ginny Potter, knew what she wanted, what she needed. Desperate for sensation, she shot him a pained glare, daring him to give her a reason to unleash the rage boiling in the pit of her stomach.

She had never had a choice in life. Even now, she stood beside someone who had seen her frequently for six years and still didn't _know_ her. She knew it was wrong to blame him, but she would have given anything for someone to have stepped forward before this thing with Harry had started spinning out of control.

If the world wouldn't give her pleasure, she would take pain. In a single movement she was rushing toward him and her fingers were twisting into his hair and her lips crushed hard against his. His eyes blinked open as he stood paralyzed by shock at Ginny's recklessness.

And for a split second his stiff lips had fiercely shaped themselves to hers, allowing her tongue entrance as they drank in the hot, bitter taste. Her heart was racing and she thought she might collapse from pain and longing when a moment later his hands were pressed gently to her shoulders as he pulled his face away.

"Ginny," his voice was heavy, though she couldn't tell whether it bore the weight of lust or sadness. "Wait here while I get you a sobering draught."

But they both knew she wouldn't give up that easily. She flipped desperately through ideas like pages in her mind until it started to make her dizzy. He was turning to leave and she knew she was out of time. She wanted this tonight, needed something to make her dead heart beat again. Her tactic was desperate and her technique sloppy, but her determination pushed her through the confusion of inexperience.

"I won't let you poison me!" she blurted out desperately. His mouth fell open, and for what she suspected was the first time in his life, Professor Snape looked utterly bewildered.

"Excuse me?" His tone was dangerous, but she detected a hint of fear. Ginny couldn't think of any reason to go down without a fight, so she stood her ground, even as her ears reddened with embarrassment. She strained to decide how to continue without seeming utterly insane.

On the other hand, tonight was no time for playing it safe. She had a lifetime of identical tomorrows looming in front of her, and if she didn't break away now, she might never find the strength.

"It's just," a small tremble in her voice threatened tears even as she stared at him with stoic eyes. "You gave me this horrible stuff and how do I know the next thing you give me isn't going to be even worse?"

God, even the innocent ones were deadly, Snape mused.

"And for that, I apologize. But, Ginny, you don't strike me as a witch who's never had Firewhiskey before. Surely you were familiar with the intoxicating effects."

"It's never been like this." her body was almost swaying, as though pressed forward by a wind he couldn't sense. It was rather amusing, he grudgingly admitted to himself, to see her with her guard down. The light-hearted façade she presented to the world had left him utterly unprepared for the devastating force of the tempestuous intensity brewing in the depths of deceptively soft golden eyes. The corner of her mouth quirked up in a small, lopsided smile. "But maybe sometimes very bad is better than nothing at all."

"Explain what you mean by that."

"Well, I mean, if I can't be happy with my life, I still need to feel _something._ Letting the numbness of a normal life lull me into a waking slumber… I might as well be dead. Even if the best I can hope for is being able to feel a new kind of pain for a little while, at least it wakes me up. At least I know I'm still alive." Her cheeks were flushed, the color even more inviting in the firelight.

Severus Snape only stared at Ginny, finding himself, for the first time in decades, completely and utterly speechless.


	3. Chapter 3

-Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot of this story.

The war had left a generation of young witches and wizards hopelessly jaded, but Professor Snape had never stopped to think of how the pain she had suffered over the years might have changed the youngest Weasley. After all, she carried herself like nothing could weigh her down. She always walked with her head high and a perfect smile on her lips. He had even thought, if only for a moment, that she loved Harry.

And as the girl stood before him, flowing red hair and pale skin in the darkened room, he couldn't help but see the ghost of Lily Evans in her silhouette. He felt a flash of bitter amusement at the thought; Ginny was submitting to a passionless life for the son of the only woman he had ever loved and the man who had stolen her.

There was no love between Severus Snape and Ginny Weasley. Truth be told, they didn't even really like each other much, but as he loomed over her, perched on his massive heavy desk in billowing black robes, the air between them was electrified by the tension, the thrill of shared fury.

"Ginny, you know I'm not trying to poison you. I think you've suffered plenty for one night, and we can forget about the punishment if you'll just sober up and get some sleep. But please, don't let me catch you out of bed again." His voice was tired, and he wished he could want her to accept his offer. If she stayed in his presence for much longer, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from doing the things that had coursed through his mind from the moment those delicate smoke rings had drifted through her lips and past dead, pain filled eyes.

It was sick, he was sick, to want her as badly as he did. Still, neither one had much left to lose. As soon as Ginny left Hogwarts, she would be swallowed whole by the expectations heaped upon her by the world. Severus woke up every morning knowing that any day now, one of the surviving Death Eaters waiting in the shadows would find him, and torture him until he was dead or insane. The best he could hope for was a quick end, that he would not be captured and kept alive for months or even years before being killed.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" Ginny's voice was soft and sweet, but she knew she had the upper hand. She couldn't resist playing the games that had always been lost on Harry, who couldn't see past the outermost layer of anything she laid before him.

"I am simply being civil." He watched her, eyes curious and intent, matching her every step as she led him in an intricate and vicious dance.

"No," she breathed, moving closer to him now, so close he could feel her hot breath brushing past his cheek. "This is the first honest conversation I've had in months." And somehow it was. Even though she never gave him more than an indirect allusion to the truth or a short, one word reply, more information had passed between them than she had shared with anyone since beginning her relationship with Harry. It was funny, really. Now that everyone was dying to get close to her, she felt like no matter how hard they pushed, she was impossible to touch. Every day was a scripted routine that she faced completely and utterly alone.

He could have taken her now, he knew, and she would not resist. Of course, that wasn't what she was looking for. He didn't want to be another adolescent fumbling, tucked away in the dark corners of her mind with other regrets and fruitless pursuits. She was an attractive woman, and could easily have any man who dared to risk the wrath of Harry Potter. She was also intelligent enough to take what she wanted from most men who were fearful enough to try to resist.

If sex was all she wanted, it was highly unlikely that she would seek it from him, a man who stalked through dark hallways with anger in his eyes. He was old enough to be her father, and his worn face was littered with scars. If sex was all she wanted, she would have led another student to an empty classroom, and by now they would be reduced to a tangle of sweaty limbs, spent, panting in the moonlight.

"Miss Weasley," It didn't escape her notice that the way he addressed her continued to change. She could almost see the argument he had with himself behind those dark eyes. It was her job to make sure his better judgment lost to his primal desires. "your behavior tonight has been most unusual, and most alarming. If you are at all unsure of your psychological wellbeing, perhaps a trip to the hospital wing is in order."

"You wouldn't." Those sweet eyes were fixed in the most fascinating glare now.

"As your teacher, it would be utterly irresponsible of me to not even touch on the subject. You are clearly not yourself this evening." His voice was perfect, betrayed no hint of his arousal.

"Or maybe I am myself, and no matter how many potions Madam Pomfrey crams down my throat, nothing will change aside from the precise amount I loathe you."

"Even if that is the case, it would be rather irresponsible to leave you unsupervised in your current state. Since you refuse to allow me to assist you in any way in becoming slightly more sober or perhaps even more sane-" here he shot her a pointed glance, daring her to contradict, but she remained silent, "-I suppose the best choice would be for us to continue this discussion somewhere a bit warmer." The eyes raking over her body made Ginny suddenly aware of the chill that had come over her, made her aware that she stood with narrow arms folded across her chest to hide hardened nipples. She wanted very badly to cover herself with the discarded robe that sat in a heap on the floor a few feet away, but of course that would be giving in.

"I'm not cold." She tried to keep the slight shiver out of her voice as a draft crept over her exposed neck like an icy breath. He raised an eyebrow doubtingly.

"If you're not cold, stop hugging yourself."

Ginny opened her mouth to respond, then closed it again. Was he saying what she thought he was? Surely she had imagined the slight leer in his voice.

"Well, Miss Weasley, if you're not cold, why are you clutching at your breasts?"

"I am not clutching at my- what?"

"I think we both know you heard me the first time."

"Professor Snape! That's hardly an appropriate way to talk to a student." The shock and disgust in her voice failed to entirely conceal the amusement she was trying to hide.

"Miss Weasley, I don't believe you're one to talk about inappropriate behavior tonight."

"Fine. Where do you want to go?"

He slid off the desk, landing clumsily on unsteady legs but recovering his normal rigid posture quickly. He moved to the bookshelf to the left of his fireplace, the breeze created by his billowing cloak lightly disturbing the blanket of ash that hid the dying embers.

Ginny watched transfixed as he ran agile fingers over wood that glowed beneath them, muttering a few incantations that caused the shelf to swing forward, revealing a narrow stone hallway.

"Ladies first." He didn't slur, but the words sounded slightly thick. She imagined that his tongue felt heavy in his mouth, that his head had swam when he stood.

This was a terrible idea. In fact, letting Snape lure her into a hallway that she could only imagine led to his private quarters was one of the worst decisions Ginny Weasley had ever made.

And the doomed princess took her first steps toward the dragon's lair, knowing that he would eat her alive, but ready to leave everything pretty in her life behind.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot of this story.

Ginny could feel her professor's eyes on her back as she led him through the narrow corridor, hand grazing the wall for balance. When they reached the heavy wooden door to his private quarters, she paused as he slid past to unlock it. Feeling the distinct hardness that grazed her thigh, Ginny resisted the urge to mockingly as whether he had a wand in his pocket. Touch gave her imagination a glimpse of his body, firm and warm against her. He strode into his room with so much composure she wondered whether she had only imagined his arousal.

Of course she hadn't. He wanted to tear the thin fabric to shreds, crushing her into the wall as his lips drank in her taste, to scrape his teeth against her neck, to bite and bruise every inch of that fragile and flawless body.

But he knew better than to give in so easily. He could see it in her eyes, she wanted the same thing he did, but it would be worth nothing to her if given freely. And it would be so much better this way. He would toy with her, tugging at the tiny strings that bound her until she flung herself at him with the full force of years of bottled up anger. When he finally allowed her to kiss him, he would taste the delicious fury on her tongue.

"I suppose," he sighed, "That since you are a troubled student, we should drink hot chocolate by the fire while you prattle on about how hard it is to be getting married at such a young age out of some sense of obligation. I should offer you more marshmallows while you tell me how very unfair it is that you should have to be stuck with the life you weren't even willing to fight to escape. But how I do hope it won't offend you if I have to spike my beverage before I can muster any sympathy for such an eager martyr."

"How dare you?" Ginny's eyes burned with rage. "You saved his life, and we both know you had no other option because of the debt you owed his father. A life for a life. Harry saved mine, and now it's his for the taking, whether I like it or not." What she said wasn't entirely accurate; leaving Harry would strike most of the world around her as a heartless and terrible thing to do, but the simple fact that he had saved her life didn't give him ownership of her soul.

"Would you prefer coffee then?" he asked dryly.

"I think you've poured enough terrible things down my throat for one night." Her eyes were only slits now, burning amber in the harsh light of his sitting room.

Professor Snape raised an eyebrow. "I'd hardly say I forced you to drink anything. In fact, I warned you that your actions would have consequences."

"Then go for it. Give me detention every night until I graduate, string me up by my ankles, whatever does it for you. But let's get this over with and stop pretending you have any interest in the events you feel some sick need to dissect. You don't want to sit around with me all night any more than I want to be here, so tell me now what it's going to be and let me go to bed."

"Why would I do that? I seriously doubt that you would even attempt to sleep."

She tried to appear shocked at his accusation rather than allowing herself to reveal how close he had been to the truth. It was hard to fall asleep, and when she finally did, it was only to swim through an ever-deepening tangle of nightmares. "What else would I do with myself at this hour?" Ginny tried to force a yawn, but was almost certain after the fact that her attempt at acting sleepy had failed.

"If I could answer that question," he spat, voice growing softer as his blood began to boil, "I would not have to keep you here." For a moment he wondered whether he could have come up with some other excuse. He was fairly certain that would not have been a problem, though he loathed himself for it.

"Since when do you care what I do with my life?"

"Since when have I claimed to?"

Her face hardened into a smooth mask, but the hurt the comment had caused was clear in her eyes. She turned to leave and surprisingly strong fingers closed around her wrist, pulling back to make her face him.

"Ginny, I don't hate you."

"Wow, thanks." The sarcasm was heavy in her soft lilt. She tried to tug her wrist free.

"He doesn't deserve you."

The shock was clear on her face, and he drank her expression in with a thirst he hadn't felt in years before continuing. "In fact, I'm relatively fond of you, despite your taste in… _friends._"

"'Relatively fond'? Piss off, Snape."

"You know," his tone was dangerous as he drew her body close, so close she could smell the alcohol on his breath, "you're being terribly disrespectful. Though you have battled Death Eaters beside me, in this castle, in these walls, you are first and foremost my student."

"What are you going to do about it?" she wasn't pulling away anymore.

"Whatever it takes, Miss Weasley, to remind you who is in charge."

Her free arm moved by itself. Both of them stood, stunned, as the slap rang through the silence. It left a faint flush on his cheek.

"How dare you?" He held both wrists now, their bodies pulled close together.

"What could you possibly do to me that's worse than what I've already done to myself?" Tears stung her eyes, but Ginny refused to cry.

"Shall we see if we can't find an answer to that question?" She could see in his eyes that he wasn't bluffing.

Neither was she.

"Go ahead."

A/N: Check out the homepage listed on my profile if you want to get a peek at chapters early!


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot of this story.

"Oh, Ginny, you should not have done that."

Severus released one of her wrists and pulled her toward the door at the far end of the room. Ginny felt vague surprise at the butterflies swarming in her stomach (she had thought them dead for years now).

"Where are you taking me?" She tried to keep her voice steady, to maintain her composure, but everything inside her was spinning so fast she could barely think at all.

"If you are unable to restrain yourself," he breathed, wrenching the door open, "I'll have to restrain you."

The horror she felt at the notion was oddly enticing. Actually, the sensations she felt now were not entirely unpleasant. The room they entered was starkly decorated; a few bookshelves lined the walls and a single chair stood behind a large, empty table.

"Get on the table." The words were almost a growl.

"What?" Whatever she had been expecting, it hadn't been this. When she hesitated, he lifted her swiftly, sitting her on it and pushing her shoulder so that she was forced to lie down. A scream bubbled up inside of Ginny, but she refused to let it escape. The man standing above her in his dark cloak muttered an incantation and silky fabric wound itself around her wrists and ankles, then over her torso, the oddly electrifying caress of the bindings on her body caused her to writhe in anticipation. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Simply taking steps to prevent any further violence on your part." His black velvet voice was smug, and she looked up at him incredulously, feeling a thrill of genuine fear for the first time since the Battle of Hogwarts had left her in a waking slumber.

"You can't tie me up!"

"You can't smoke on school grounds. You'd be amazed by the things we cannot do but somehow participate in anyway." He smirked down at her, shiny onyx hair falling in heavy curtains around his stark white face, punctuated by those infuriating black eyes.

Ginny struggled against the bindings though she knew that her physical strength could not interfere with the intimidating force behind his magic. "What do you want from me?"

"I simply want to talk, my dear." He settled into his chair, clearly satisfied that he had the upper hand.

"Fine." Ginny pouted. "What do you want to talk about? Are you going to pour veritaserum down my throat and interrogate me now?"

"Heavens, no!" His hand fluttered against his chest in exaggerated mock-innocence. "I would never do such a thing to a child!"

"I am not a child."

"Are you requesting veritaserum then?"

"I'm not fucking insane, either."

"Then let's just have a civil discussion."

"Civil? I'm tied up!"

"Need I remind you that in addition to smoking on school grounds and stealing my firewhiskey, you have now assaulted a teacher?"

"Assaulted? I slapped you and you deserved it! And what did you do to stop me from drinking that firewhiskey?"

"I told you that your actions would not be without consequences." Oh, he was enjoying this.

"Go ahead then, let's talk."

"I suppose I should ask the most obvious question first. Why did you slap me?"

"You deserved it."

"What did I do to provoke such heartless violence?" Had she not seen the smirk on his face, Ginny might have thought he sounded genuinely hurt by her actions.

"You know damn well what you did. Now untie me and let me go to bed."

"I will untie you, Miss Weasley, when I see fit. I'm sure that time will come sooner if you cooperate."

"I slapped you," she growled through gritted teeth, "because you were taunting me about a very delicate subject."

"I was most certainly not taunting you. Why are you so sensitive?"

"Because I hate all of it!"

"Tell me what you hate, little girl."

"I hate you! I hate being stuck with Harry! I hate the flowers and the dresses and the brunches! I hate the backstabbing bitches who call themselves my friends, just hovering like vultures, waiting for the chance to steal from me what I never wanted in the first place!"

"My, my, such a hateful child. What would your mother think?"

"She thinks Harry is a part of our family as much as I am. She tells me I will grow to love him, if I give him a chance. She thinks Harry is so good for me, even though she knows that thinking about my future chews up my insides. She thinks I should never tell anyone about all the potions from St. Mungo's I have to swallow every day. She says the scars are healing nicely from the time I took that knife to my arms and tried to end it all." She looked at him with fire in her eyes, "She thinks life is wonderful, and that I should gleefully swallow everything I've been given. And every time I choke, they just pour another potion down my throat to subdue me for a while."

Maybe it had been a mistake to tie her up this way when the girl was already so troubled. Still, she looked relieved to have finally said the words that had doubtless been sitting bitter on her tongue for months now.

"Don't marry him."

"I don't have a choice."

"You always have a choice, Ginny."

"Says the man who tied me to the table."

The bindings vanished. "Is that better?" She ran to the door, but found it locked.

"Let me out!" She rattled the handle.

"Is that really what you want?"

"Yes!"

"Very well." He conjured two bottles. One held firewhiskey, the other a sobering draught. He drank deeply from the firewhiskey, offering her the other bottle. "You may drink this and leave as soon as you are sober."

"And if I don't want to drink that?"

"I suppose since I can't get in much more trouble than I already am, I might as well offer you another drink if you'd like to stay and talk."

"You're actually offering me alcohol?"

"You can carry on a surprisingly engaging conversation. I must admit I find your presence entertaining enough that I'm willing to encourage you to stay."

Ginny couldn't suppress the small smile accompanying the embarrassing blush rising from her chest to her cheeks. Snape was being uncharacteristically nice to her. She wasn't sure what to think, but she was definitely not ready to leave. She took the firewhiskey from his hand and took a long drink, shuddering with the last swallow. Her gaze burned into him as she spoke.

"What if I don't want to talk?"

"What would you suggest we do instead?"

She handed him the bottle and he looked up at her, knowing the dance was reaching its natural end. He was still amazed by the force of her advances. Before he could take another breath she was straddling him, brushing delicate lips over his scarred forehead. Her tongue slid across his skin and into the mouth that had been opened by a low moan. His hands rested on her slowly writhing hips. He could feel the heat burning between her legs and couldn't stop himself from pressing against her.

He _would_ kiss, bite, and bruise every delicate inch of that fascinating body, he would taint any part of her left pure, obliterate any remaining traces of innocence behind those amber eyes.

Ginny was amazed by how easily he lifted her, sweeping her out of the room and down a long hallway, throwing her down on his bed and climbing roughly on top of her.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot of this story.

His lips were rough on hers as his hot tongue forced its way into her silky mouth. She struggled against him but was glad he held her down, knowing she would leave if he let her, and that she would regret leaving for the rest of her life.

She would trade everything she had, every shallow, stupid friend, every happy memory, if even one night with Harry could feel like this. Her back arched, pressing her body hard against his. She wished she could want to pull away, to go running to Harry with tears in her eyes and take comfort in the safety of his arms.

Unfortunately, this was exactly what she'd wanted.

Boys her age could never keep a secret. Even if they could, they were all far too dense to give her what Harry so desperately lacked. Sharp teeth scraped against her neck and she couldn't suppress the moan that flowed through her lips. Yes, this was how it was supposed to feel.

For a split second, the memory of every time she had slept with Harry came flooding back, the fumbling, the apologies, the eventual comfortable routine. Yes, it felt nice, but not much more than that. This was something else entirely.

And his teeth caught where her neck met her shoulder. He bit down and she cried out, nails digging into his thick cloak. He chuckled.

"Perhaps this is getting in the way." The black fabric draped over his shoulders whispered through the air, landing dully on the floor. His hips stayed against hers, holding her down even as she writhed beneath him. She could feel the bulge of his arousal, hot and firm against her stomach. One of her hands crept down to touch it, but he slapped the hand aside.

"Going to be naughty, are we?" the silk in his voice was still there, even as his words came out in a rough pant. Her eyes met his and she let out a tiny whimper, knowing that she had lost control. "The safe word," he breathed in her ear as her neck pushed hungrily toward his mouth, "is 'Quidditch.'"

She instantly resolved not to say it, not to give in, no matter what he did.

"Did you hear me, little slut?" he growled.

She nodded in acknowledgement.

"Then tell me, Ginny. Tell me what I told you." The way he said her name sent a shudder through her tiny body.

"You told me the safe word, sir." She was careful to avoid repeating the word itself, terrified that he would simply stand up and send her back to her dormitory, leaving the desperate thirst he had awakened forever unquenched.

"Good girl." His deep, melodic voice gave her chills. "You do know what a safe word is, don't you?"

"Yes."

His hand clapped against her face, leaving a faint tingling in its wake. "Yes what?"

"Yes sir." She had never considered herself the kind of person who might appreciate pain, but somehow, seeing the ecstasy in his eyes as he inflicted it was electrifying. What they were doing was wrong in more ways than she could begin to list, but right now she couldn't make herself care about that. Nothing she could do now would compare with how wrong her life itself felt to her.

No torches lit the room, but tall, narrow windows threw slivers of bright moonlight on the floor, bright enough for Ginny to wonder if the windows amplified the light that passed through them. She couldn't help but gasp as he started to unbutton his crisp cotton shirt. She had been shocked to see that it was white, but the color suited him, brought out the inky blackness of the hair that grazed his shoulders. She stared at the dark hair dusting his white chest. His skin glowed like snow in the moonlight and Ginny couldn't stop her fingertips from tracing their way down to the silky trail that fell beneath his navel. He froze for a moment, letting her hand slide across his skin beneath the crisp shirt that hung unbuttoned. His eyes closed and he let out a slow breath, looking peaceful, almost happy.

As quickly as it had come, the expression had left his face, replaced by the normal mask of indifference and distaste.

"Hands to yourself," he breathed roughly in her ear, "or you won't be getting what you so desperately need."

A look of defiance flashed across Ginny's face, but she let her hands fall from his muscular torso onto the bed beside her. She wanted to run her fingers through his hair, to memorize every inch of his body, to make her memory of this night as flawless as possible, so she could keep it, one tiny dark secret locked away deep inside that would help her get through the monotony stretching in front of her. Still, if she didn't do as he told her, there might be nothing to remember.

"Undress." His tone left no room for argument. She stared at him in awe for a moment. "Now." he intoned softly, anger flashing in his eyes.

Ginny tried to sit up, but Severus didn't move, and the weight of the man straddling her hips held her firmly where she was. Instead, she tugged the hem of her shirt up, wiggling awkwardly to allow the fabric to travel, inch by inch, toward her shoulders. As soon as she had pulled it over her head, long fingers snatched it deftly from her grasp. She watched in amazement as he held the fabric to his face, inhaling deeply.

"Lilac?" The corner of his mouth tugged up, hinting at a smile.

Ginny nodded, oddly flattered by his interest in her scent. Harry had told her she smelled good so many times, and it had meant nothing… But she wouldn't think about him right now. Enjoying this moment was far too important.

She watched the way his eyes traveled over her, glinting with feral hunger in the silvery moonlight. His hands, graceful hands that had fascinated her for years, felt calloused and rough on her warm skin. Her arm twitched toward him before she remembered she had not been given permission to touch his face. The movement did not go unnoticed.

"Having problems with restraint, are we?" He smirked, and again she found herself bound. Of course she couldn't escape, but struggling still felt good for some reason. Maybe it was the way his body rubbed against hers when he tried to hold her down.

"Up." he commanded, hooking a finger in the elastic of her pajama pants and jerking her hips closer to his. His body separated from hers for a moment, and she felt cold air hitting her exposed flesh as he roughly pulled away the last of her clothing. Once her pants were removed (she didn't typically bother wearing panties to bed), he stared down at the glistening ruby fuzz. He grazed it with a fingertip as if approving her grooming choices before she felt the ties snaking around her ankles and pulling her legs apart.

Ginny couldn't help but gasp at the feeling of icy night air on the wetness between her legs. He responded by dragging his fingernails down her body, leaving tiny pink trails that almost wanted to bleed.

And she felt so fucking _alive. _It was like nothing else she had ever felt. The safe word flitted through her mind, but she closed her eyes tight and fought to ignore it.

Whether he cared what she wanted or not, he was certainly giving it to her.

He laid on the bed beside her, hot breath caressing her ear moments before his rough tongue followed, exploring every inch of her. His teeth grazed her earlobe, then his mouth drifted down, leaving a wet trail on her neck, biting her shoulder.

His tongue slithered over her collarbone and he grabbed her breast roughly, teeth scraping over her nipple as he sucked it into his mouth. She couldn't suppress the tiny whimper that rose to her lips in response to the sudden pain. She felt his sharp intake of breath, the air like ice on her dampened skin, and her body pressed closer to him.

He pulled away, staring at her for a moment with intensity that sent a shudder of desire through her very core.

"What do you want?" he growled in her ear, tongue darting out to touch the goosebumps that rose on her neck in response.

"I want you," she murmured, "I'll do anything for you, to you. I just need…" her body arched forward again, emphasizing the desperate nature of her longing.

"Anything?" he teased, trailing down toward the heat radiating from her pussy.

"Yes, please." she breathed, trying to capture his lips in a kiss. He pulled away, smirking. One of those graceful fingers penetrated her, slipping into the tight hole that ached for stimulation. She moaned, begged him to keep going.

"You're a perverted one, aren't you?" he snickered, writhing a second finger inside of her. The movements of his hand against her and the digits pressed inside made her entire body tingle with sheer need. His free hand ran roughly over her skin, the calluses formed by years of handling abrasive substances only made his touch more stimulating.

As his fingers moved inside her, she bucked against the waves of ecstasy washing through her, his rough breathing in her ear the only sound that crept through the gaps in her desperate moans. As the bliss subsided, she felt herself drifting off to sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot of this story.

Ginny woke in her own bed the next morning with no recollection of having traveled there. Her hand groped the bedside table and she was intensely relieved to find a small bottle of a luminescent blue potion sitting beside a cold glass of water. Under normal circumstances, she would never consume a potion of unknown origins, but the throbbing in her head was making it a little hard to worry about whether the hangover remedy had been tampered with. Tossing the cork on the floor, she swallowed the contents of the tiny vial, quickly chasing the thick fluid with a drink of water, shuddering at the taste.

She felt better almost immediately, stretching and looking at the clock.

No wonder the room had been silent! Breakfast was already almost over. Ginny grabbed her things and rushed for the shower, knowing she was going to be late for her first class. The steam billowed around her as she hurried to scrub away all traces of the night before, ignoring the redness that appeared in response to her merciless cleansing.

She was disgusted with herself for betraying Harry, for turning away from everything he had given her, for giving in so easily to a man she wasn't even particularly attached to. By now the lingering effects of the alcohol had been neutralized and the murky fog stagnating in her brain wafted away, leaving a stinging clarity.

The faucet squeaked as she turned the water off, the last few drops splashing down around her toes. After Ginny dried off, she pulled the fluffy towel up around her shoulders and walked up to the mirror. She stared down her reflection, carefully examining her face for any evidence of the previous night's activities. She looked a bit pale, and the dark circles under her eyes were more pronounced than usual, but she didn't have time for makeup or concealing charms and she didn't look too abnormal, so she rushed to get dressed, pulling her hair back into a tight ponytail on the way to her trunk.

She hadn't thought to check her neck or shoulders for bruises, but there was no time for that now (and even if there was, she wasn't sure she was ready to face the guilt she knew seeing physical evidence of the night before would bring flooding back). Ginny couldn't remember the last time she had needed to wear a turtleneck under her robe to hide love bites. As she dug through the bottom of her trunk, her fingertips grazed a familiar material. Snatching the garment free she smiled triumphantly at the dark purple material draped between her fingers. It was a snug shirt she had bought last winter. She tried not to think about the way her life had changed since then as she struggled to force her head through the frustratingly small neck hole.

It was a bit shocking the way the fabric cascaded down her body. A few of her friends had been making comments lately, and she knew she had probably lost some weight but she hadn't really thought about it until she became aware of the way the garment floated around her. She decided she must have been thinking about a different shirt, or maybe it had somehow been stretched out. She ignored the twinge of fear in her stomach and the tiny nagging voice in her head that let out a worried sigh, but said nothing.

Ginny had seen too many loved ones die to be afraid of her own mortality anymore. It was easier, in a way, to just accept that every moment of her life, death was drawing nearer. Food didn't taste the way it used to, before the war. Nothing was as satisfying as it used to be, so as her skin grew paler and her arms and legs thinner, Ginny felt little motivation to make any effort to slow her body's deterioration.

As she rushed into the common room, the group of girls that had attached themselves to her stood from where they had been waiting in the common room. She rolled her eyes, disgusted that they would allow themselves to be late as well simply because they wanted to spend every moment following her.

When they came bursting through the door to the Potions room, Professor Snape, who had obviously already started the lecture, stopped speaking and turned to glare at them.

"Ladies, I'm honored you've decided to grace us with your presence after all." His eyes, for the shortest instant, flicked over Ginny's body before he composed himself and continued. "Ten points. Each."

Their eyes met as Ginny wondered why he hadn't given them detention. She hurried to her seat, trying not to blush. What she had done the previous night was stupid. She knew that if anyone found out what had transpired between her and her professor, it would destroy both of their lives. She wondered if he had thought about that before he touched her, if he had been influenced by the knowledge that she was the one student who had as much to lose as he did should they be found out. She looked guiltily at her friends, but they didn't seem to notice that anything unusual had taken place.

It was hard to eat, hard to focus, knowing what she had done. Thoughts of that night kept popping into her head, always accompanied with a stab of guilt and a tiny thrill. Sleeping was impossible, but she didn't dare to venture out of bed again; she had no idea what she would do if she got caught.

It felt like she was never alone, but she was always lonely. Her eyes were always drawn to him, but he took no notice of her. It was only a couple of days before the claustrophobia got the best of her and tears were streaming down her face as she ran for the tower.

Cigarette already in hand, she crashed into the cold night air, relishing the way the wind hit her, tugging on her hair and roves. She stopped short as she noticed a tall figure waiting in the dark.

Severus Snape looked down at her, face glowing from the tiny flame at the tip of his wand.

"Need a light?"


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot of this story.

As much as he loathed admitting it to himself, since his first encounter with Ginny, Severus had been unable to resist spending his evenings lurking atop the tower where he had found her. He didn't allow his mind to register the tiny rush of adrenaline he felt as he heard the unmistakable sound of her slippers slapping against the steps.

He was waiting when the door burst open, unable to suppress an awareness of his predatory stance.

Yes, he wanted to claim her, and it was hard to deny, no matter how hard he tried.

Though it had only been days since he had stood this close, it felt like much longer. Maybe that was why he found himself to unsurprised by the change in her appearance. It was slight, but definitely there. Her skin was paler, her cheeks were slightly more hollow, and her eyes burned with the intensity he so desperately craved.

She was icy at first, aloof, clinging to flawless composure. Still, each time she exhaled, closing her eyes as the smoke mixed with her frosted breath in a white mist, her body drew slightly closer to his.

Now he could feel her warmth, wanted desperately to move forward a few inches and close the distance that remained between them. Rarely had he struggled so hard to maintain simple restraint.

He snatched the cigarette from her lips, coal black eyes boring into hers as he inhaled deeply, reveling in the unfamiliar burn of smoke in his lungs. A tiny orange spark leapt away as the lit end dropped against the stones before the fire was quickly smothered by a sleek black boot. His face was a smooth and perfect mask, but the dark eyes flickering over Ginny's body before his robes brushed against her as he strode away were enough to make her follow.

Again, they did not speak, and again, they met no one on their way to his office. Her head swam with the thrill of knowing she was doing something terribly wrong when they entered. She looked at him, and those eyes stared back at her, unfathomably dark.

Honestly, he was shocked she had come back after what had happened last time. Maybe she truly had enjoyed it…

His body crushed hers against the wall, as he fiercely possessed her mouth. She knew she should try to stop him, that she should pull away, but she lied to herself and pretended to be intimidated, pretended that she couldn't stop him if she wanted to.

Rough kisses rained down her neck, making her arch her back and moan in a voice that sounded nothing like she thought she sounded.

The noise made every hair on his body stand on end, made his skin tingle, and his hips rushed forward, pinning her down even harder.

And another moan escaped.

Then he was carrying her, running desperately toward his quarters. He flung her down on the bed and fell upon her, his savage bites leaving dark bruises down her neck.

She moaned, arching up into his touch even as she wished she could pull away. Every inch of her body was awake now, every molecule inside her felt more alive than it had in as long as she could remember.

His touch set her on fire. The blaze devoured everything, unstoppable. Even her thoughts could not be spared. She felt his arousal, hot, firm, shoved up against her almost hard enough to leave a bruise. Her head swam and her body took over. His robe was on the floor now, his pants jerked hastily out of the way. She let her body contort against his, so that as much of her flesh was pressed to his flesh as possible.

He slid into her easily, though she gasped at his size, unsure whether she felt more pain or pleasure. Ginny didn't care anymore.

He thrust into her, and she cried out for him to go on, even though she knew she should be begging him to stop. All of her senses came alive as she inhaled him, listened to that deep, rumbling moan, looked at those incredible onyx eyes, and tasted blood as she bit into his lip.

And she felt. Oh, how she felt. He tore her shirt open, pressing his bare skin to hers, let his fingers twist through his hair before fisting them together and jerking his hand away. Even as she whimpered from the pain a thrill rushed through her body.

Her nails sank into the skin of his back, and he let out a low, angry moan. She saw fury in his eyes, but in a rush it turned to lust. His tongue danced over her bare, sweating skin. She tasted like jaded innocence, like fear and a desire so strong nothing could stop it.

Ginny almost felt like she was being eaten alive, they way his mouth attacked her skin, the enraptured look on his face that told her he was savoring every flavor, every sensation.

"No!" She gasped, and his body pulled away, hovering inches above hers. No part of him touched her but she could still feel his heat.

"No?" His voice sounded amused. He was toying with her, but she was past carry. "Do you want me to stop, Miss Weasley? I have told you of the safe word. You are free to use it at any time."

The silence rang out around them.

"Very well then." His deep voice purred as his teeth sank into her shoulder. It hurt, and she thrashed beneath him, but he only fucked her harder. "Tell me what you are." he murmured in her ear, sending shudders coursing through her.

She looked at him questioningly.

"Tell me!" He snapped.

"I'm- I'm a slut!" There was a strange feeling in her throat as sobs clashed with cries of pleasure.

"To whom do you belong, slut?"

Her eyes swept over his body, hungrily taking in every detail.

"I belong to you!" She whimpered.

"You would do well," now he leaned close, hot breath dancing against her neck, "to remember that."

He drove himself into her so hard she thought her body might tear into thousands of pieces, shreds that would float to the floor like tiny feathers expelled by an eviscerated pillow.

Then the heat started in her, burning in a tiny point until it could be contained no more and flooded through every inch of her body, making her cry out in a voice she barely recognized as her own. His lust exploded inside her, making her shudder hard against his body.

And there they lay, his body draped over hers, damp skin pressed against damp skin, gasping for breath.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot of this story.

After a while, Ginny stopped bothering going to the tower to smoke, because Severus was there waiting every time, and they reached a silent consensus that it would be best if she met him in his office. Carrying a terrible secret around wasn't the burden she would have expected. Actually, it felt rather good knowing she had something that was hers and hers alone, something the world didn't want her to have that she was taking anyway. The bottom line was, she felt more alive than she had in years, and everything was new again. Colors were brighter, food tasted better, and the wind whipping through her hair on the Quidditch pitch finally felt like it had when she first started flying.

None of the girls that had attached themselves to her seemed to notice much difference, but she looked so different to Severus he was almost worried it would raise suspicion. Her color was better, and she had gained back a bit of the weight the tragedies of war had eaten away. It wouldn't be accurate to say that she smiled more often, but her smiles seemed much more genuine, and Severus found himself oddly drawn to her company.

He would assign her detention and she would storm and glare in front of her friends, but the act only made the flame she ignited in him burn brighter. He found nothing quite so appealing as Ginny's fierceness, and even when she wasn't truly mad, she managed to be convincing enough for him to feel a tiny thrill.

_Stop staring, you perverted old man! _He chastised himself one day, after realizing his eyes had glazed over at the sight of her chewing absentmindedly on the end of her quill.

"Miss Weasley," he snapped, startling a tiny smile onto her lips before she pulled an angry face, "in case you have forgotten, we are in a potions laboratory in which many dangerous ingredients are kept. It would be wise, if you are capable, if you would avoid putting things in your mouth while in my class."  
She blushed crimson and her eyes burned into his. "Yes, Professor." Her posture was stiff and her mouth was a hard line. The other students were staring, almost as fascinated by her fury as Severus was by the inviting flush that crept across her chest. He knew she was thinking of what he would do to her later.

And later couldn't come fast enough. The day crept by at a sluggish pace, but Ginny's friends thought she was just irritable because she had assigned detention, not because it was approaching so slowly. As for Severus' short temper, well, it certainly wasn't considered out of the ordinary at all.

Finally he heard the sharp rapping on the door to his classroom. Late night meetings started in his office, but detention had to take place here.

"Enter" had barely escaped his lips before she came rushing through the door, slamming her bag down as the lock clicked shut behind her.

"Miss Weasley," he said venomously, "I'm astonished by your thoughtlessness this afternoon. You have no idea what substances could have accumulated on that quill when you let it rest on the table. You know the class before yours consists of first years and I certainly don't have the time or inclination to sanitize the tables after each class. You should most certainly hope they weren't using anything particularly toxic today."

"Maybe you should taste for yourself."

"I most certainly will not lick your quill, Miss Weasley."

"That's not what I meant." She was upon him like a ravenous beast. He was still sitting at his desk, but there was enough of a gap in front of him for her to straddle him, and he felt the hardness that had been threatening to arise all day start to materialize. Before she could feel his arousal, he pushed her off, letting out a calloused laugh as she hit the floor and shot him a scornful look.

"You are well aware," he said, "that you are here to be disciplined, Miss Weasley."

She was glaring, but he knew she was on fire inside. The reason she kept coming back, the reason she so desperately craved his embraces, was that he didn't simply give in to her every whim like everyone else in her life seemed to. He would ridicule, taunt, and deprive her, sometimes for hours, or even days, before finally bestowing upon her the sensations she so desperately craved. After all, who would want to play a game they won every time, usually on the first move?

"Perhaps," he said thoughtfully, in the cold deep voice that made her stomach swim, "I should have you thoroughly clean the tables to ensure the safety of any other student idiotic enough to risk ingesting the residue of what has been on them."

"You wouldn't." She knew he would. She hadn't even stood yet, knowing he wouldn't approve of her doing anything without his explicit permission. She shivered slightly against the cold stone of the dungeon floor.

"You," he sneered, "are certainly in no position to dictate the terms of your _punishment._"

Gods, she loved how he said that word.

"Well," he quirked an eyebrow, his face a mask of cold amusement, "what are you waiting for, child? Get started."

She stood and walked to the nearest table, pulling out her wand.

"You know better than that." he chided, "you may not use magic. You will find cleaning solution and a brush in the supply closet at the front of the room."

She wondered how long he would make her wait this time. Seeing the way she twisted the quill between her teeth had obviously agitated him far more than she had dared to hope. She almost wanted to think he felt protective of her, but didn't dare to harbor such thoughts.

Rolling her eyes, she went to get the supplies, knowing that while he pretended to grade papers, he would be stealing glances up her skirt, painfully aware that she had slipped her panties off after dinner.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot of this story.

Ginny scrubbed tables for what felt like hours. She was starting to wonder whether tonight would bring any sort of gratification when she heard his voice in her ear. He stood startlingly close, so close she could feel hot breath teasing strands of fiery hair.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself, Miss Weasley?"

"I did nothing wrong." she shot back, turning to look at him, doing everything in her power to provoke the man, "I was just a bit absentminded."

"I suppose you were absentminded when you got dressed today as well."

Her cheeks reddened. "I'm sorry, sir?"

His eyes raked over her body, pausing to linger on her skirt. "I think you know perfectly well what I'm speaking of."

Ginny fought the urge to grin. She didn't think she could bear it if he decided to draw this out much longer. "Did I forget my knickers, Professor?" She tried to sound innocent, embarrassed, unsure. Judging by the look in his eyes, she knew she had succeeded.

"I very much doubt that you _forgot _anything, Miss Weasley." His voice was lower now, rougher, as his body drifted slowly closer to hers.

"You think I left them off on purpose?" She sounded appalled even though at the moment, she was almost unbearably aware of the slickness between her thighs.

"No, Weasley." he growled, "I _know_ you did. Do not think I've failed to notice the slutty alterations you've made to that uniform skirt."

"Professor, almost all of the girls at Hogwarts-"

"Do NOT interrupt me, girl! I know for a fact that you were wearing panties in class today, and now you are not. Am I to think this was unintentional, that they somehow vanished without your knowledge."

"No, sir." Ginny stared at the ground, humiliated at having been caught making such an obvious attempt to provoke him sexually.

"Your actions will have consequences, of that I can assure you." His silky voice had grown quieter, and infinitely more dangerous. "Stay." he commanded sharply before striding slowly to the door. Ginny stood in shock as he cast additional wards against intrusion, then turned to her and slowly removed his outer robes. She was not surprised that the clothes he wore beneath were dark and formal, but as he walked toward her, he started to unclasp his belt.

Her heart was beating faster now. Very rarely did he reward her with the mind-shattering pleasures of intercourse.

"Remove your shirt." Her hands trembled slightly as she unbuttoned it and let it fall to the ground. She watched him avidly, but with a wave of disappointment, realized that he was sliding his belt free, not unbuttoning his trousers. He couldn't possibly be getting ready to do what she suspected, could he?

He strode over to his desk. "Come here."

Ginny wasn't sure whether she liked where this was leading, but she followed nonetheless. The answer to her questions came when he swiftly bent her over the desk. She could feel his burning hot hardness rumpling the pleats of her skirt as he whispered roughly in her ear,

"Remain here until I instruct you otherwise. Bear in mind that our safe word still exists, and you may stop me at any time, but should you choose to do so, this detention will be over and you will be expected to return directly to your dormitory."

The sound of his voice made her wonder how much longer she could bear having her aching arousal left unfulfilled. The coarse fabric of his pants brushed her bare thighs as he moved away slightly, and for a moment, there was silence.

Ginny was tempted to turn and look at him, but before she had the chance, she felt the leather of his belt biting into the soft skin of her back. She cried out. It hurt more than she thought it would, and she almost wanted to stop him, but she didn't. He would make her leave, and no matter what she did to herself with the hangings closed while the other girls slept, she would not be satisfied, and probably would not sleep.

"Remove your bra." He sounded more demanding now, and she complied before she had even fully processed his command. As soon as she was pressed against the smooth, cool desk again, she felt the sting of another blow. This was getting a little too intense, but she heard him breathing roughly behind her and pleasure coursed through her body as she imagined what his face must look like now, as he paused to savor the pain he was inflicting. A calloused hand caressed the fresh welt, making it sting and tingle intriguingly. Maybe, Ginny thought, this wasn't all bad.

And the next blow felt better, until the pain itself started sending jolts of arousal through her. It wasn't long before her need was entirely overwhelming.

"Please." she moaned softly.

"'Please" what? What is it that you want?" His voice was sharp and cold, but the intensity of his desire was still evident in his tone.

"Anything!" she panted.

He whipped her again.

"No," she moaned, "not that. Touch me!" she begged.

His fingers crept between her knees, trailing up her thigh and stopping just short of the place she wanted desperately to be touched.

"Fuck me." she pleaded.

His hand moved away. "No, I don't think I shall."

"I need it."

He leaned over her body, pressing her against the table with so much force she could feel the line of buttons on his shirt against her bare flesh.

"What you need," he hissed in her ear, "is to be _punished._"

The way he said that word made her terribly nervous and excited.

She undulated against him as much as she could with her body pressed so tightly against the desk, trying to ignore the way his buttons scraped over her welts.

"Very well," he sighed, "you have behaved tonight, so you will not leave unsatisfied."

A hand pushed into the almost nonexistent space between their hips and slid her skirt out of the way. Two long, rough fingers slid easily inside her and she gasped as they started to dance agilely against every inch of warm flesh they encountered. It couldn't have been more than a few seconds before an orgasm shook her body hard enough to drive away all rational thought. One of her hands flew back and wrapped around his cock. He groaned and thrust against her as the sound of his voice drew out her orgasm. He was harder than she had ever felt him, grinding against her with wild abandon for an instant before suddenly drawing away.

He walked briskly across the room and put his robe back on, before turning and telling her to get dressed. He sounded frustrated and a bit breathless. Ginny gingerly pulled her shirt over her shoulders, unwilling to endure the agony of a bra against her raw back. She stuffed the unwanted undergarment in her bag and walked out of the room, feeling oddly dazed and amazingly drained.

She fell asleep almost the moment her head hit the pillow, wondering if the wetness she had felt against her hand right before he pulled away was only her imagination.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot of this story.

Hogsmeade weekends were the only time Harry got to see Ginny. The Saturdays spent in the tea shop, pretending to be in love had become slightly more bearable since Ginny had been carrying her filthy little secret, but she still dreaded these days.

She walked through the castle gates knowing Harry was waiting for her already, dreading the look of joy and desire that spread itself so plainly across his face when he saw her. Severus was one of the chaperones this afternoon, but that didn't matter, since on the surface, nothing between Ginny and Professor Snape had changed. He didn't even glance in her direction as she passed; the feel of his eyes on her back had become all too familiar.

Ginny sat down across from Harry, expecting the usual cup of weak, over sweetened tea, accompanied by talk of a marriage Ginny was starting to consider killing herself to avoid. She was surprised by the sparkle in his eyes, and even more shocked when he asked her to go for a walk with him. Since Voldemort's defeat, Harry had been… less than adventurous. She followed him meekly into a patch of trees, until he spun to confront her.

"What is Snape doing to you?" Harry asked, cheeks flushed with rage.

"Nothing!" Ginny cried, desperately trying to grasp the reason Harry might suspect such a thing.

"I've heard rumors," he began, "that you're being picked on, but I have to ask, what are you doing in his chambers in the middle of the night?"

"What are you talking about, Harry?"

"The map doesn't lie!"

"Fuck!" Ginny had forgotten Harry's habit of checking the Marauder's Map, searching for her dot when he missed her.

"Why are you in his room?" Harry shouted, losing his temper.

"Harry, I'm seventeen! Why do you expect me to have the rest of my life planned out? Do you think I'll be happy, really happy, pumping out a bunch of babies just like my mum?"

"What about my happiness? I love you, Ginny!"

"You love the idea of me. You want to marry into a big family and for your best friend to be your brother-in-law. Hermione is already taken, so you figured, why not me? Who else was lying around, waiting to be snatched up? Who else even knows you? How many people have you allowed to really know you, Harry? How many women have you turned away because they didn't understand parts of you that you refused to even talk about?"

"That's not the point! Don't you think I've been through enough without my one true love betraying me?"

"Do you think the title really fits, if that's what I've done?"

The sound of his palm hitting her cheek rang out through the silence of the trees. Suddenly, Harry found himself pinned against a tree.

"Mister Potter," Professor Snape sneered, glaring down at him, "I'm afraid I cannot allow you to physically harm one of my students."

"She's not your student, she's my fiancée!" Harry bellowed.

"Ginerva Molly Weasley is not a possession, Mister Potter." Severus' voice was now filled with venom, and Ginny couldn't help but wonder how much of the conversation preceding his arrival he had heard.

It was a terrible idea for Harry to take a swing at his former professor, but he did have a habit of getting himself caught up in the passion of the moment. Severus hit him, hard, and stared coldly down at the man who was now sprawled across the forest floor.

"I believe," Severus said to Ginny in a surprisingly dignified and formal tone, "that it is time for us to return to the castle."

Stunned, Ginny accepted the hand he offered her and allowed herself to be led back into the streets of Hogsmeade.

"Thanks." Ginny couldn't hide her humiliation in her tone.

"I was merely doing my job."

"I don't know what I'm going to do with myself now. Everyone will know that I've hurt Harry, and a lot of people will try to hurt me, to punish me for what I've done."

She was shocked to feel a warm arm snake over her shoulders.

"You've done nothing wrong." A low, silky voice assured her.

"It doesn't matter." Ginny fought back the hysterics she imagined would consume most other women at a time like this.

Severus sighed. "I am," he said, after a long pause, "seeking an apprentice. I believe Hogwarts is a very safe place for one who encounters a large amount of… _misunderstanding._ If you are able to demonstrate a level of competence I fully expect of you, you would be well suited for the position."

"You don't have to-"

Severus cut her short. "Do not," he said, "mistake this for anything but what it is. I am offering you a job, nothing more. Anything that takes place between the two of us during our free time is _entirely_ unrelated." His voice grew quieter as a crowd of students drew near. "If, for example, certain activities that have taken place between us were to come to an end, it would not affect your position in any way whatsoever, just as any personal relationship we have will not salvage your career should you perform substandard work."

"I understand, Sir." Ginny hoped that the sexual release she had found with her professor would continue, but something much more important was taking place in that moment.

For the first time in years, Ginny saw the path ahead of her opening up, and knew she would, for the first time in her life, make decisions unencumbered by what others thought proper.

For the first time in the seventeen years she'd been alive, Ginerva Weasley felt free.


End file.
